Got It?
by Hanzatsu-Hime
Summary: I WANT TO ENTER THIS IN THE ANIME NORTH FANFICTION CONTEST, SO PLEASE REVIEW! This takes place during chapter 490, after the crew leaves Thriller Bark. Zoro is on night duty and decides to train. Nami, however, refuses to allow it. ZoroxNami!


_**One Piece:**_

**Got It?**

Again, even in such a late hour, he reached his goal of five thousand. Bending his knees slowly, he balanced his entire body weight on his right hand and curled his stomach inward. Using the slanted position, he placed the oversized dumbbell down slowly and spun his body in a right angle. As he stood in a steady stance, the swordsman took the opportunity to grab his small wash cloth of a towel and wipe his brow. His breath leaving him at a firm rate, he basked in the familiar moment, where the world left him unbothered for this slight period of time. Looking out the Crow's Nest window upon the Thousand Sunny, he lowered his usual level of precaution and took the time to gaze at the night sky. He let his sight play with the stars that faded behind the window frame as the ship sailed onward through the Grand Line's dark waters. His heart rate slowed at a quicker pace whenever he relaxed this way, was something he had come to notice.

"Zoro." The sound of his name startled him, and his soothing heart beats returned to the regular speed it normal reached while in the midst of training within a millisecond.

He whipped his head around so rapidly, it should have disconnected from his body. His grip instinctively tightened over the meagre towel as his eyes scanned over the shadows. Moving over the spacious area in a horizontal pattern, he noticed a pair of familiar shoes peaking out from under the pitch-black cloak. Though he recognized the intruder, his glare deepened while he lifted his stare to where we guessed _her_ eyes would be. Remembering that she had called to him, with her identify discovered, he decided it was the most appropriate time to acknowledge what she had said, "What are you doing here?""

From her resting position against the wall, after staring at her for a moment or two, he made out her figure. She had her regular orange hair down, taking it out of the small ponytail she had worn while in Thriller Bark. She was still wearing her polka-dotted blouse, that he, though not a man of fashion, wasn't particularly fond of. With her arms placed behind her back as a prompt for her figure, her white jeans were pushed out on more of slope then the rest of her body. Even with the shape of her face traced by what miniscule moonlight made its way into the room, he still felt bare in comparison. He was in clear view while she still rested in the darkness after he had made it evident he knew she was the one who called to him. What added to his discomfort was the fact that she was able to sneak by him, and sit there for an unknown amount of time.

"Chopper's mad at you, you know." He could hear the gentle tone of her voice while she spoke, and it made him become more worried over the strange setting.

"Too bad." He looked away in midsentence. Trying to ease his strong sense of disrelish, he quickly reached for his staff of weights. Even though he had not intended to do so, he began to his work-out program from the very beginning.

"He has a reason to be angry. If you keep training so much, after what you just went through, you're going to tire yourself out the point of exhaustion. Then what use would you be?" Indeed, her tone had lost a sliver of its kindness. Her heels against the floorboards resounded in the room, warning of her presence closing in on him. Fighting with all his might, he overcame the urge to gulp.

"I'll be fine. I'm always ready for battle. Go to bed." The strong warning inside him turned into a distress signal; his body was shivering with the sense of her approach. He knew he couldn't turn away from her, since it would only cause her to become curious or upset, so he remained still and simple looked straight ahead.

"That's not what Chopper said." Another note added to his alarm; she wasn't being as spunky or persistent as he predicted she would be. What ever was making her act this way must be something powerful, he had heard himself think in the corner of his mind.

"It doesn't matter. I'll be done soon anyway. Just go to sleep." He hadn't expected to end up lying to the navigator, but she had not given him any other option. Truthfully, he hadn't even intended to lift his weights until he awoken from his next catnap. He was simply acting within character by performing his training ritual. However, he merely acted in such a way to deceive a member of his beloved crew. This made a small scowl etch into his facial features.

"You were unconscious for two days, so I can see why resting seems really stupid right now. But even with your inhuman strength, you can't push yourself too hard. Do your duty and put those down." Now, the 'Nami' tone he was accustomed to returned, allowing his muscles to unclench.

"I know. I'll do my duty. You're not my nurse, so leave me alone." As he finished his sentence, he felt a cool, tiny hand rest upon his raised left. He swiftly looked at her, surprise written clearly on his face. He dared not to even make up for his display of emotions, as he was willing to admit he was completely unprepared for such a thing.

"I _saw_ you, Zoro," she stated such an obvious fact, yet her eyes exposed such an unusual emotion, "I saw how much blood covered your body. I saw how _lifeless_ you. You were lying there defenceless, which is completely unlike you, and on the brink of death _once_ again. Plus, I'm sure if I took a poll, everyone would tell you to rest. So go sit by the window. Moreover, actually watch the sea. But you better drop these weights right now. Let training _go_ for a while, alright?"

To hear her speak of him like that, sounding as though he was helpless and weak, made his temper boil. Naturally, around Nami, his fury always found a reason to peak. Be that as it may, though they enjoyed pushing each other's buttons, this was a topic that had never been discussed by the two of them. As a man, he felt it was his responsibility to protect her, and had used gallant strength to do so. For her to use him as a servant was one thing. To hear her talk about him as if he were some soldier who was easily disposed of caused his heart to ache.

"Don't treat me like a weakling," he growled deeply, "You don't even understand what happened. Stay out of my business and go away." Ripping his hand out of her grasp, he turned his back to her. His scowl blackened to the point where he had to watch his swings from under his eyebrows. His jaw locked, he forced all thoughts from his mind, to return to his peaceful fix. Trying to create a blank state of mind, he transferred his animosity into motivation for his drill. Applying all his energy into his practice, he almost threw his weights forward in a swift motion.

Exposing his teeth with a grunt while closing his eyes tightly, the swordsman forced himself to toss his weights high over his head. He had never been one to control his anger, so it wasn't as if he was planning to self-coach himself now. Instead, he was simply trying to train, which was something he loved, to indulge in his breathing exercise's simplicity. Releasing his held breath, he lessened the force in his arms to take another swing. Opening his eyes to monitor the motion, he barely stopped himself in time. Once again, the cat-like woman had passed by his senses and was now directly before him. The black steel plate was only an inch, he assumed, from his skull before he threw the entire piece of equipment backwards.

It wasn't until the deafening echo of his iron tool against the floorboards ceased that the first mate was able to choke out an audible sound, "What the hell do you think you're doing, you crazy—"

"I'm not leaving this room until you stop what you're doing and do what you're suppose to do!" her voice seemed louder to his ears then the clash they had just heard listened to moments ago. Still, even with past experience that warned him to avoid her wrath, he wasn't willing to let her berating comments slide. He stood tall and proud, readying himself mentally to stand against her.

"I can do what I want to. You're not the boss of me; you're not the captain, you're the navigator. The sooner you realize that, the better." He was pleased with his reply; he felt his had stood his ground very well.

"No. The sooner _you_ realize you're not as strong as you think you are, it will be better.—"

"_What_? How would _you_ know? You have _no_ idea what you're talking about right now, so shut up." The nerve she had sometime amazed him. He had spent roughly twelve years of his life striving for the promise he had made his dear friend so long ago. Now, some girl he was forced to partner with felt she had the right to criticize his life work, his goal. Not once had he ever trampled on her dream to make her map of the world, even though she had abused their compulsory relationship for her personal benefit.

"Stop trying so hard! You're not going to become stronger by forcing yourself this way. You were injured on every part of your body. Blood was dripping from your head to your feet! You were almost considered paralyzed! That's how injured you were. And yet, within two day's time, you're training again? I know you're powerful, and you are definitely one of your crew's strongest members, but doing this doesn't make us think any different of you. You don't need to force yourself to work so hard for us. You did enough." By the end of her small speech, her face had softened greatly. She almost looked as if she was pleading in her final words.

Suddenly, his attitude changed. He had mixed feelings toward her words, which was rare for him. Usually, he would simply say whatever first came to mind, or something appropriate he could come up with on the spot. But with such gentle wording and kind-hearted intentions, he was almost able to forget her previous description.

"Why does it matter to you how bloody I was?" Crossing his arms, he tried to display his dominance in the scenario. Looking down at her, his face now deep within the shadows, he still felt as though he had the upper hand.

"I was the first one to see Bartholomew Kuma. I was terrified of him the moment I saw him. Not only had you fought with everyone in that giant Oz battle, but you also fought him, one of the Seven Warlords, all on your own." The way she voiced her statement added to the dramatization of the situations she described. He decided to ignore his fight with Ryuuma and add his two cents in.

"So? That doesn't answer my question. Why should you care?" He looked positively unimpressed, though hadn't been his intention. The gloomy atmosphere that hung over them, due to the shade of the evening, had given him this impression. In a few seconds, he watched as her brow creased and her lips curved in the most displeased way.

"You jerk! Who do you think sat beside you while you were unconscious for two days, huh? Chopper had to take care of you, but I was at your bed side from the moment I loaded my treasure onto the Sunny! I was worried, okay? And this is how you thank me? I don't care what happens to you anymore, but no matter what, you're not picking up those weights until I say so, got it?" she bellowed more so then he ever had in his nineteen years of life.

He was in the clearest state of shock. He never would have guessed that she had been with him during such a time. No one, besides the young doctor, had ever taken much notice of his injuries before. She herself had even used him as a noble stead in Alabasta, though it was clear that his torso was torn horrendously. And now, in a moment of rage where she admitted such a thing, he was so surprised that he was beside himself. It was something he never would have guessed in a million years. Though in his heart of hearts, he had to admit, it did give him a small taste of joy.

Still, with such a surprisingly affectionate moment, his stubbornness refused to let him yield, "You can't tell me what to do, no matter how many nice words you throw at me."

Releasing a shrill sound of his rage, she went over to him and grabbed him by the collar, pulled him down until they were face to face and screamed, "You either leave those weights alone, or I'll make Franky take them, melt them down and use them for scrap parts, _got it_?"

It was in such a moment that he admitted defeat. Turning his head away, he looked out at the night sky just as he had before with a potent yet lazy look upon his face. Feeling like a hunchback within her grasp, he still couldn't shake the sense of happiness that was budding inside him.

"I said, _got it_?" She shook him by the collar and made him look at her. Eyes locked, he feared she would see what was stirring within him. Quickly, he furrowed his brow and grunt. "I got it." He mocked terribly, and sighed as she pushed him as a form of letting him go from her clutches. He pretended he couldn't bother with her fleeting presence, though the familiar sound of her sandals was the only sound with range of his hearing.

"Now then," she stopped just before the Crow's Nest exit, he could tell without a look, "Good night, Zoro. Do your best." And in a mere ten seconds, it was as if she was never there.

Dropping his head backwards with another heavy sigh, he was in disbelief. He wasn't sure whether he hadn't processed the information yet or he just refused to believe. It amazed him that after time and time again, with all his displays of concern and sentiment, she finally showed interest in return. Of course, in a twist of fate, he had to be unconscious for such a thing. There had always been a mystery surrounding that woman, and even though he had changed over the course of the Straw Hats' journeys, he still couldn't deduct an explanation.

Though he would never admit such a thing to her face, he couldn't believe how much spunk she had. He admired her ability to stand up to men twice her size, and her cunning wits that allowed her to create such sensible comebacks. Almost finding the urge to laugh, he came ever so close to admitting he had grown fond of such a troublesome woman. However, although he was alone, and although he was undeniably pleased, he refused to say anything more. Instead, as always, he did as the navigator instructed and grabbed the small blue blanket he had discarded upon entry to the room. Walking towards the window, he wrapped it around himself loosely and took a seat.

In the window's reflection, he could see his own half-slacked smirk, but decided to ignore it. If he couldn't be awake to actually experience a tender moment with her, then she would have to wait for him. Until he was conscious while they were together for such sweet displays of care, he would continue to leave things as they were. After all, with their quest reaching its end, he knew that he could wait a bit longer before confronting her. It all depended on which one would cave first now. But little did he know that they had both, in their own ways, caved long ago. It would take not pride, but will and trust to see which of the two most troublesome crew mates would proclaim their love first.


End file.
